Help in the Night
by harrypotterfan987
Summary: ((Originally posted on archiveofourown by me.)) Riggs wets the bed while staying the night at Murtaugh's house. Roger finds his embarrassed friend afterwards.


Riggs woke up almost abruptly, blinking blearily. The room was dark, save for a bit of moonlight shining through the curtains. He glanced at the clock on the bedside table. 2:34am.

Martin groaned quietly under his breath. Why had he woken up? Intent on trying to go back to sleep, he began to roll over, but he quickly froze in the process. The feeling...it was unmistakable, and most definitely unwelcome, if he was right.

Swallowing, Riggs sat up, hesitantly pulling the blankets back and looking down at his lap. It was hard to see in the darkness, of course, but he was able to make it out. He closed his eyes with a small, defeated sigh.

He'd pissed the bed.

It wasn't a new experience by any means. It had happened a fair share of times since Miranda's death, and even a couple of times before that. Normally, he'd just mentally berate himself, clean up, and down some whiskey. This wasn't a normal occurrence, however. No, it definitely wasn't, because this time, Riggs was in a spare bedroom at Murtaugh's house.

Cursing under his breath, he threw the blankets the rest of the way off and climbed out of the bed. Martin winced at the way the sweatpants-that he'd borrowed from Roger, for Christ sakes-clung to his skin, cold and wet. He looked back at the wet spot on the bed, trying to determine what to do. Ideally, he'd like to avoid anyone knowing about this incident; however, the odds of that were slim. He wasn't at his trailer, he wasn't even sure where the Murtaugh's washing machine was exactly, and the noise of the machine itself, if located, could wake Roger or Trish up.

Deciding that, in the instance of his own decency, he had to at least try and handle this himself, Riggs quietly began to strip the sheets off the bed. He bundled the bedding up, carrying it in his arms as he cautiously opened the door, looking down the hallway. He was upstairs, and the washer was probably downstairs, he reasoned. If Roger or Trish found him, at least he could prove he was sorry by the fact that he was trying to clean up the mess he'd made.

Making his way quietly down the stairs, Riggs tried not to think about the odds of him being able to successfully pull this off; they weren't exactly in his favor. It took him a couple of minutes fumbling around in the dark, but he found the laundry room. Once inside he flipped on the light switch, not wanting to try to continue to do everythingentirely in the dark. Riggs carried the bundle of sheets over to the washer, and he was in the process of stuffing them inside when he heard footsteps.

They were already close, too close, and Riggs had nowhere to hide. He realized belatedly that he was still in the saturated pair of pants; pants that were direct evidence of what had happened, as if the sheets weren't incriminating enough. The only other clothing he had to change into were his jeans from the previous day, still upstairs. His mind hadn't gone that far just yet. He'd been worrying about the bedding first. Swallowing as the steps got closer, all Martin could do was look around, helpless. He couldn't run, couldn't hide. He was caught, wet pants and all.

Riggs looked up from the washer just as Roger appeared in the doorway.

Roger looked only half alert, but he raised an eyebrow, a sarcastic comment already forming. "I didn't think you even knew how to do-oh..." He cut himself off in the middle of his wisecrack about laundry. His eyes had first found the startled, guilty look upon Riggs's face. Then he'd looked farther down. The pattern of wetness was telltale, and Roger was too stunned to even care about the fact that the other guy had borrowed them from him.

Murtaugh had heard a noise, and knowing Riggs was in the house and could be doing God knows what, he'd begrudgingly gotten up to investigate. He could see bits of sheets poking out of the washer that Riggs was standing in front of. This further solidified what had happened. The poor guy had wet the bed, and now Roger had caught him in a uniquely vulnerable position.

Riggs blushed against his will, glancing down at the floor, avoiding eye contact with Murtaugh. This was tremendously embarrassing. He wanted to kick himself for not even considering the possibility of this happening if he stayed over, but in his defense, it wasn't like it was an everyday occurrence. Riggs ran a hand through his hair, his mind racing.

"I, um-I can handle it. You can go back to sleep, I mean, and... I'm sorry if I woke you. And, uh...I'm, I'm really sorry...about...yeah..." Martin stumbled quietly and anxiously through his apology, still avoiding eye contact.

"Hey, hey, it...it's okay, man." Roger reassured softly. This was a bit out of his element, but he _was_ a father. Riggs wasn't a child, even if he sometimes acted like one, but Roger still felt like this situation drew upon his experiences of dealing with his own children. Riggs was clearly mortified, and Roger didn't want to say something to upset him further.

"Stuff happens; it's not like you did it on purpose," Roger shrugged, "Are you sure you don't want some help, though? The washer we've got can be a bit tricky. Plus, I can get you some clean sheets from the closet." he offered.

Riggs glanced up finally, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ah, I mean...if you really want to?" It was as close to a 'yes' as Riggs could muster. He had no idea where they kept spare sheets, and he didn't want to screw up their washing machine on top of everything else.

Murtaugh took that as enough of an invitation and stepped further into the room. He came over to the washer, and Riggs stepped aside. Roger started the water, pouring in detergent, and making sure it was set on a proper cycle before shutting the lid.

"There," he stated, turning back to Riggs, who still looked embarrassed and dejected. "You, uh...wanna take a shower? You can borrow some more clothes." Roger suggested gently.

"You don't have to do that, I can just wear what I had on yester-" Riggs started, but was quickly cut off.

"No, man, it's not even three in the morning. You should get some more sleep, and jeans aren't that comfortable to sleep in. Come on, you can use the downstairs shower." Murtaugh didn't accept no for an answer this time, gesturing for Riggs to follow him.

Riggs did follow him after a moment of hesitation. He really had no choice; besides, he _did_ want to clean up, so he let Roger lead the way.

Roger led Riggs down the hallway and to a bathroom, stopping by the door. "There're towels in the cabinet. I'll bring you some clothes and sit them outside the door where you can grab them." he explained softly, feeling bad for the other man, but trying not to be so obvious about it. "Uh, after you undress you can sit your clothes outside the door and I'll throw them in the washer as well."

"Thanks," Riggs mumbled. He could say more, but he was still fairly embarrassed by what was happening. Blushing mildly, he slipped into the bathroom, eager to get out of the uncomfortable pants that were clinging to his skin.

Roger sighed only after walking away, running a hand over his face. There was never a dull moment with Riggs for sure. This was a bit different from the usual antics, though. Riggs often hid any vulnerability, or tried to, so to find the other man in a situation like this was rare. This he couldn't hide, even though Roger knew he no doubt wanted to. He absently wondered if this was an ongoing problem for the other man, or if it was just a onetime incident. The latter seemed more likely, but with the kind of stuff Riggs had been through, one couldn't easily rule out the former scenario. Roger wasn't going to pry at this, though. You had to pick your battles when it came to Riggs, and while he was concerned—and curious—this one incident wasn't enough of a reason for him to ask such a personal question. Besides, the other man would more than likely lie if it was, in fact, an ongoing problem. It was probably better not to dwell on the subject.

Quietly going upstairs, Roger did his best not to wake Trish as he found some more clothes for Riggs to borrow. He went back down with them in hand, approaching the bathroom where he could already hear the water running. Riggs had listened to him, for once, and had sat his other clothes outside the door.

Sitting down the clean clothes by the door, Roger gingerly took the other clothes, trying not to think about what he was doing too much as he went to throw them in the wash as well. He grabbed some clean sheets, figuring he might as well go ahead and remake the guest bed. Afterwards, he decided to wait for Riggs to get out of the shower, even though he was tired enough to want to go back to bed immediately. Murtaugh sat in the living room while Riggs showered.

Martin spent about ten minutes in the shower, mainly because he knew Roger was probably waiting for him. He could only hope the other man didn't try to ask too many questions about this incident. He probably wouldn't, it was an awkward subject, but still. Riggs sighed, shutting off the water and getting out, grabbing a towel. He hesitantly opened the door a bit, quickly finding the clothes Roger had left for him and pulling them into the bathroom with him before shutting the door again. After getting dressed, Riggs took a deep breath, exiting the bathroom, and walking quietly down the hallway.

Murtaugh looked up when Riggs entered the room, standing. "Hey...I remade the guest bed for you...you really should get some more sleep." the detective murmured, trying not to act with any sort of awkwardness. It would only make Riggs feel worse.

"Thanks..." Martin still gave off a guilty and slightly mortified demeanor, but he was grateful for the other man's help.

"Riggs, uh..." Roger shook his head, "Really, it's okay. Not a big deal. We don't have to talk about it. We can pretend this didn't happen…. Unless you wanted to talk about it, which you can." he added the last part on the off chance the other man decided to open up to him. The very, very off chance.

Riggs shook his head. Per usual, he didn't want to discuss a subject like this any more than strictly necessary. "Thank you, Rog, really," he murmured sincerely, briefly meeting Murtaugh's vaguely concerned gaze. "I think I'll skip the talking though, and just…try to get some more sleep. You should, too."

"That's fine," Roger nodded in acceptance. It went almost unspoken that this meant they were never going to discuss this again, and Riggs would get up in the morning and pretend as if nothing had transpired, which he'd expected. "And I think I'll take you up on that…goodnight, Riggs."

"Goodnight, Roger." Riggs murmured, giving the briefest hint of a smile before backing away, turning to head back upstairs.

Martin went back to the guest room, grateful that his partner hadn't teased him, or gotten angry, and added to his embarrassment. Still quite tired, he crawled into the freshly made bed. This incident wasn't going to easily leave his mind, but at the very least, Murtaugh didn't seem as if he was going to bring it back up in the future. One could hope, anyway.

It took a little while, but Riggs drifted off back to sleep, and a few paces down the hallway, so did Roger.


End file.
